


Unconscious

by hello_imasalesman



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3, Fallout 4
Genre: Frottage, Ghouls, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 03:11:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14803260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hello_imasalesman/pseuds/hello_imasalesman
Summary: Edward Deegan is broader in the shoulders and more narrow in the hips than Charon, a more exaggerated triangle. Standing shoulder to shoulder, they form an impenetrable wall of ghoulified muscle that's at least three of him wide. PWP.





	Unconscious

Edward Deegan is broader in the shoulders and more narrow in the hips than Charon, a more exaggerated triangle. Standing shoulder to shoulder, they form an impenetrable wall of ghoulified muscle that's at least three of him wide.

They are both wearing tattletale grey wife beaters, matching. The same ones Charon wears underneath his armor. Edward grabs at Charon's hemline, hooking his thumb against the frayed ends and pulling up. Charon's belly shivers as it's exposed to air, Deegan's fingers raking up his skin. With one hand, he holds his shirt up, exposing him; the other strokes his torso. Charon sighs. He has that quiet, hushed look of contentment on his face, as Deegan’s hand strokes over his ribs, up his sternum. Ghouls of their age and state don't have nipples anymore, but Edward plays his fingertips firmly over his pecs, and the ruined skin there. They are both ghouls, but Charon is more of a dark, ruddy maroon, and Edward a sallow, pinkish color. Their skin plays off of each other that way, catches the ravaged markings, the spots raised rough and the spots that feel like soft leather under his fingers.

Vaultie swallows. It sounds loud, in his ears. Charon sighs, not his usual, stilted gruffness, but something soft and pleased.

Without prompting, he takes his shirt from Deegan's hands, and pulls it off. Edward pulls his own matching shirt off. They stand in front of Vaultie, at attention but also at ease. Edward smiles. "I'm a bodyguard," He says, turning from Vaultie to Charon, leaning in and kissing the other ghoul's neck. The cap on his head bumps up against Charon, pushing it back, and nearly off. Charon’s neck muscles are jumping underneath his lips, his teeth; he groans, tilts his head back so that Edward has better access. His hands are back on Charon's chest. Vaultie loves that part of him, loves how broad and solid he feels under his body, when they sleep and when they fuck. Edward is very easy on the eyes, also, with a trim body and a strong jaw he's only seen in the old entertainer posters of old singers Three Dog used to have posted back at GNR.

"You are." Vaultie says. His voice isn't entirely his own. He can feel himself getting aroused, now, and presses the heel of his palm against his cock.

Deegan sinks his teeth into Charon's neck; the rumbled groan is pleased, and strained, turning breathless as Edward sucks what would be a mark if he still had skin to bruise, when what’s left has curled and tanned under the nuclear sun.

"Adam?" Charon asks.

Neither of them are wearing pants, Vaultie notices. Well, they're wearing underwear, boxer shorts that are clearly tenting. His is, too. They reach their arms out, and Vaultie takes them, to pull himself up as they pull him in.

He is engulfed. For a moment, Vaultie feels like he’s twisting upside down, free falling. But then he’s between them both, standing, Charon at his front and Edward at his back. Edward’s hands reach around him to pull down at Charon's underwear, just as Charon is sliding his down. the worn waistband goes limp and falls even around the muscled width of his thighs. Charon holds his chin as he kisses him, sliding his hand up and around to cup his cheek, thumb stroking the ruddy swell of baby fat he still holds in his face. "Do you feel protected?"

As a counterpoint to Charon's body, hunched and pressed to Vaultie, there is Deegan at his back. Vaultie nods, breathless, and has to strain to stand on pointed toes to kiss Charon proper; he whines, calves flexed and burning. Charon doesn't wait for a real response, kissing him once more, licking his mouth open, his tongue alkaline in his mouth.

"Do you feel safe?" Edward asks, in his ear. He's shorter than Charon, but still taller than Vaultie. Charon's cock is resting heavy against his hip, but Edward's is bumping at the curve of his ass, against his lower back. He's the exact same size as Charon-- or at least, he feels it, shifting between the cleft of his cheeks. When Charon pushes forward, Edward is a solid, warm wall behind him. His lungs are burning. 

"You have a type." Edward says, in his clipped tone, the same he had used to ask if they would help the Cabbots a week ago. Edward's cock slides easily between his ass. Charon's cock rubs against his as he rolls his hips. He could do this forever. He leans back into Edward, against the hardness of his body. Vaultie doesn't know what to say, so he tries to respond in action. But his hips are stuck. Charon grinds forward. There’s wonderful friction, and Vaultie chases it with his hips, trying to move his trapped cock, trying to find release.

"Isn't it strange," It's Charon this time, to the ear opposite of Edward, who has taken to sucking on the lobe. But somehow his voice is very similar, low and slow as he leans in. Or maybe, Edward's voice had just been Charon's all along. Vaultie can feel his heart thudding in his ears, rattling his brain. He's close, now. Between two ghouls, he feels like he’s burning, atom bomb radiation heat sinking into his bones, into his nerves. "To have a desire for monsters you can control?"

Vaultie wakes in a strange locale; close to the ground, on a double-wide mattress with his military egg crate thrown over top. It's cool, and damp, but not entirely unpleasant. Against his back, the handle of a coffin is pushing against the knobs of his spine, digging into the edges. He wakes to Charon's eyes, heavy lidded and milky blue.

"Bad dream?" He mumbles, barely perceptible over the quiet sounds of snores and sleep around them. They’re lying so close together, they’re sharing the same breath, but that’s not unusual. Somewhere, water drips off the ceiling of the church catacombs, into one of Tinker Tom's many buckets set up throughout the safe house to catch the drips.

Vaultie nods, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. He's both groggy and alert at once. His sleep shorts are sticking wet to his thigh— and to Charon’s thigh, which is wedged between his legs, warm and firm against his slackening dick in his shorts. Vaultie feels his face heat up. Charon exhales, his brows rising. Vaultie bites hard on his lip. Any harder, and it will bleed.

"We have a big day tomorrow." Charon says. He makes no move to close his own eyes; he rarely sleeps, if at all. Instead, he moves his arm, to drape around Vaultie's shoulders and rest at the nape of his neck. His rough fingers catch the baby hairs there. Vaultie finally lets out that breath he had been holding. He realizes he is tired; he can clean up in the morning. And the dream— just that. Just a dream. "Get your rest."

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the k!meme and cleaned up/revised a little to post here. Thanks for reading!


End file.
